


Birdwatcher

by irisbleufic



Series: CoT ’Verse (& Extended Environs) [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1980s, 1990s, BBC radio, Birdwatching, Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Eavesdropping, Hobbies, London, M/M, POV Outsider, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Restaurants, Tea, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: The two men remained engaged in avid conversation as Rashid approached with menus in hand.“All escaped pets? That’s not true of the present population,” said the dark-haired one in even darker sunglasses. “They’re quite common in the city now. I heard about it on Radio 4.”“You’re trying to tell me they breed year ’round, even in the cold?” said the one who seemed slightly older, on account of the greying blond hair and outmoded formal ensemble.“Pardon,” Rashid said, setting a menu in front of each of them. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you referring to the ring-necked parakeets amok in Her Majesty’s parks?”“Sharp man,” said the one in sunglasses, flashing a smile that made Rashid feel vaguely uneasy.[Written for Lena in the CoT Podrama Holiday Gift Exchange, with love!  Here are a few last flashbacks...]
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: CoT ’Verse (& Extended Environs) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383571
Comments: 18
Kudos: 99
Collections: Podrama Team Christmas Exchange





	Birdwatcher

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LenaLawlipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenaLawlipop/gifts).



> While complete knowledge of the mainline CoT plot is not required, those of you who have read it will probably enjoy knowing that the final vignette in this sequence dovetails with bits of both **[36: _Nightingale and Thrush_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/728117/chapters/1965868)** and **[58: _Regulars_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/728117/chapters/21304364)**.

**_Psittacula krameri_ , February 1987**

Rashid returned from the kitchen to find that a couple had been seated in his section of the Palm Court Dining Room. Of course, whether they were a couple or not was debatable—but he’d seen enough body language like theirs to know the probability was high.

The two men remained engaged in avid conversation as Rashid approached with menus in hand.

“All escaped pets? That’s not true of the present population,” said the dark-haired one in even darker sunglasses. “They’re quite common in the city now. I heard about it on Radio 4.”

“You’re trying to tell me they breed year ’round, even in the cold?” said the one who seemed slightly older, on account of the greying blond hair and outmoded formal ensemble.

“Pardon,” Rashid said, setting a menu in front of each of them. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you referring to the ring-necked parakeets amok in Her Majesty’s parks?”

“Sharp man,” said the one in sunglasses, flashing a smile that made Rashid feel vaguely uneasy.

“We spotted some in St. James’s,” said the older one, revealing an accent that felt more prim than his companion’s, although there wasn’t much difference in his diction. “The poor dears looked so dreadfully cold. I wondered if their owner had left a window open.”

“There were four in one tree,” said the younger man. “I spotted another pair across the water.”

“I’m something of a birdwatcher,” Rashid said, “or at least I used to be. I’ve read up on this curious case since setting eyes on some myself. They’re wild, these. Quite an astonishing feat on nature’s part, but stranger things have happened.”

“Radio 4 says they started breeding in Kent circa 1969,” said the younger man, brightly. “Earl Grey.”

The older gentleman sniffed, disgruntled at having lost the argument. “Lapsang Souchong, please.”

**_Streptopelia decaocto_ , May 1988**

Rashid found the collared dove lying on the pavement just outside the Ritz main entrance. Its wings were askew, one at an unnatural angle, and it was breathing shallowly.

As he bent to examine the injured bird, footsteps shuffled up behind him and came to a stop.

“Excuse us,” said a fussy, familiar voice. “Might we trouble you to, ah, budge over a fraction?”

“Excuse _him_ ,” said the inevitable second party. “No manners. What seems to be the…” As the man in sunglasses stepped forward and crouched next to Rashid, his eyebrows knit.

“Really, my dear,” Lapsang Souchong murmured, impatient.

“Did you see what happened?” asked Earl Grey, ignoring him.

“No,” Rashid replied, oddly grateful of Earl Grey’s sympathy. “Must’ve been hit and managed to flap out of further harm’s way. It’s a miracle to find one alive, if you ask me, on a road as busy as this. Say, didn’t we talk about birds…”

“About a year ago, give or take,” Earl Grey said absently, reaching for the bird, gingerly lifting it. “Please seat my companion,” he said, gently lifting it. “I’ll take care of this. Won’t be a moment.”

Rashid got to his feet as Earl Grey swiftly rounded the corner, studying Lapsang Souchong’s face. There was a kind of long suffering exasperation in evidence, but it was more fond than anything.

“Does he play the Samaritan often?” Rashid asked.

“Often enough,” Lapsang Souchong replied wearily.

**_Hirundo rustica_ , July 1989**

Rashid always felt troubled when he found his favorite regulars embroiled in an argument. This time, it had broken out between taking their order and returning from the kitchen with it.

“I refuse to believe you could’ve made positive identification given those lenses,” said Lapsang Souchong. “It darted too quickly. They’re countryside birds, last I checked.”

“Passarine, except for the scissor tail. Radio 4 doesn’t hire hacks,” Earl Grey snapped. “I listen to the gardening talk spots. They’re always on about what birds have been spotted in—”

“Barn swallows?” Rashid blurted before he quite realized he’d cut off them man in sunglasses.

“So my friend would like me to believe,” remarked Lapsang Souchong, with undue derision.

“Leave him alone, angel,” Earl Grey said reproachfully. “He didn’t sign on for a squabble.”

“Come now, a spot of camaraderie never hurt,” said his companion. “What do you think?”

“As with anything in this city,” Rashid said, setting Earl Grey’s pot of Rose Congou in front of him, “it merits speculation.”

****_Luscinia megarhynchos_ , August 1990** **

Rashid was grateful that his regulars remained for a while, after the elderly couple that had accompanied them departed. They were on their fourth bottle of wine, which might have been alarming if they hadn’t had their guests’ help on the first two.

“I don’t believe you’ve brought friends before,” Rashid said conversationally, refilling their glasses. “They seem…fascinating, let’s leave it at that.”

Earl Grey nodded, staring at what was left on the tiered afternoon tea tray in front of him, appearing to have lost his appetite. He gulped half his Riesling, as if courage was required to respond.

“Yeah, well,” he slurred, raising his glass to Rashid, “we owed them one. Gave ’em a ride back into town late last night, and this one—” he wagged a finger at his companion “—insisted we buy them a meal.”

“Please forgive the Sergeant,” Lapsang Souchong implored. “Not the most, er, with the times.”

“How about you call a spade a spade?” Earl Grey shot back. “That side of the conversation was unpleasantly loaded. I can see where the casual homophobia would’ve felt like a potential slippery slope into not-so-casual racism.”

“The Sergeant’s lady friend was pleasant enough,” Rashid remarked with restraint. “Tracy?”

“D’you know,” Earl Grey ventured, “I have an inkling that _might_ not be her real name?”

“Dear boy, _please_ ,” Lapsang Souchong implored, and then turned back to Rashid. “Might you bring us a couple pots of your finest? The usual.”

Earl Grey leaned over and mock whispered behind his hand, “He thinks that’ll sober me up.”

“Perhaps it will,” said Rashid, and heard unlikely birdsong just as he turned for the kitchen.


End file.
